Pride, Pomp, and Circumstance
by Kaelle
Summary: Throughout the world of AU fanfiction, Kagome has always been there to mend the broken pieces of Inuyasha's heart. But, if the heroine has been shattered instead, can he reciprocate? Rated for language, adult themes, and mostly to be safe.


**Summary**: Throughout the world of AU fanfiction, Kagome has always been there to mend the broken pieces of Inuyasha's heart. But if the heroine has been shattered instead, can he reciprocate?

**A/N**: So, I'm trying my hand at my first fanfic! And, not only is this my first attempt at fanfic, but also my first try at creative writing since… who knows, elementary school? I've actually had the first part of the opening scene as well as a general idea of where to go with the fic planned for several months now, and I finally gathered the courage to complete the chapter and post it now that school is out. I expect to miss many nuances typical of creative writing, as I'm now far more comfortable with expository writing (basically had it beaten into me the past few years against my will!), and I honestly don't expect to win any awards or anything.

Some notes about the story: as it takes place in the U.S., the characters, unless otherwise stated, are speaking English. Thus, I _may_ throw some Japanese words into dialogue, but dialogue only, with the exception of terms such as 'youkai' and 'miko' that _should_ be familiar to anyone who follows this particular fandom. The Japanese words I use will be little things like "ne?" and "gomen nasai;" things that might slip out of a native Japanese speaker's mouth unintentionally, because frankly, I don't speak the language, and I don't want to really research for a mere fic. Neither do I expect readers to know Japanese. As such, I'll definitely make sure that said phrases will either be explained in the author's notes, or will be easily inferred from contextual clues. Words like 'youkai' and such I'll use because they carry immensely different connotations than their English counterparts. For example, "demon" has such a negative Judeo-Christian subtexts that don't translate to the manga/anime, you know? And then _'miasma'_ just sounds ridiculous to me. :]

I'll try to stay true to differences between cultures, but as I have never visited Japan nor researched into said differences, I can't promise perfection. I'm also going to try to keep everyone as in-character as possible (though adding much-needed development!), so feel free to point out anything you notice as OOC – but remember, it _is_ an AU story, and as such, the characters have a different history than in the manga/anime, some much more so than others… But I digress.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything remotely affiliated with Inuyasha; hence, the reason it's called fanfiction.

* * *

_One single vision fills all minds: that of our independence endangered. One single duty imposes itself upon our wills: the duty of stubborn resistance.  
-- King Albert II_

_Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,  
The spirit-stirring drum, th'ear-piercing fife,  
The royal banner, and all quality,  
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!  
-- Shakespeare, "Othello"_

"Hey! _Princess_-chan!"

Kagome froze instinctively as the peculiar amalgamation of Japanese, English, and vehemence broke the silence of the unusually empty city streets. She groaned inwardly as her mind made the connection. If for nothing else, she was going to kill that man merely for making her use that horrible, horrible alias. Bastard.

She turned, cautiously registering her offenders. In the absence of moonlight, she relied on the dim flickering of the streetlight. After a moment, she recognized them as the three inseparable cronies from her foreign immersion class. And, appropriately enough, they were the very same that her enigmatic sixth sense had alerted her to earlier that day, though she dutifully ignored it as always. Saving her self-chastisement for ignoring her surroundings the minute before and her pointed ignorance of her instincts, she carefully regarded the perpetrators.

"Yeah, _Himeko_, I'm talking to you." He said it as though offended. Kagome wasn't sure what she'd done to cause that, beyond existing.

Two bulky men, their arms stiffly held by their sides and dull eyes blinking slowly, inanely, flanked the man jauntily approaching her. She turned to face them slowly, not bothering to school her expression into one of comparable stupidity; all three lacked the mental capacity to notice minute flaws in her carefully constructed character. And hell, it was more difficult than it looked to _act_ like a dimwit habitually. Those thugs had it easy.

'_Oh, if I could only kick their asses, just once_,' she thought ruefully. Kagome knew she was more than capable. With a split-second appraisal of his figure, she detected the lump in his jacket pocket, all-too indicative of illegal weaponry. Her eyes flashed likewise over the leader's goons, noting not only that they too carried similar concealed arms, but also how their beady eyes doted on their chief, their ears almost visibly twitching as they hung on his every word.

"Looks like the _princess_ needs a _queen_-sized makeover," he sneered, referring to the frizzy mess knotted atop her head. His cronies chuckled loyally, and Kagome bit back a sarcastic retort. '_Bet it took him all day to come up with that one.'_ Instead, she agreed amiably. "I always dreamed of being on one of those reality makeover shows," she bubbled mindlessly.

Evidently, her geniality only served to further enrage the man. He vehemently spat something about how the world didn't revolve around her despite her convictions. Kagome couldn't be bothered to listen.

They stood roughly five meters away now; a few more steps and she'd have her shot. She planned subconsciously. Dart out, right palm to the nose, dig her left heel into his foot, then right knee to the crotch, and her left hand would intercept his right before it found the handgun weighing down his pocket. Twist his hand back, and before either of the goons could blink, she'd have their fearless leader on his knees screaming with his pistol in her fist, trained on the two of them. Sure, she'd still be outnumbered, but hey. Psychological warfare's a bitch. With their leader wailing, the dimwits would be equally helpless. And the key to success was the element of surprise.

In less than five seconds, she could be free of them for good. She only needed four, three, two more steps.

But then, just as she shifted into a defensive posture and was about to drop her messenger bag to make her move, a dull tittering reverberated throughout the streets as a large group exited a building – presumably a restaurant – across the road about a block away, shattering the tense anticipation that clung to the air. Kagome sighed regretfully. _Witnesses._ Even if she would willingly face the consequences of showing up _those_ three —mainly because they'd be far too shocked and mortified at their situation to approach her again — the risk of someone with actual operable brain cells noticing her was far too great of a risk to take. The twins sagged and the leader ceased fuming, and she knew that, no matter how dense they appeared, they retained enough self-preservation at least to know not to _physically_ harass her with a potential audience. Although she couldn't be sure, but she thought she also picked up a slight growl of frustration from the third. _ 'Yeah,_ _I'm just as miffed as you, bud._'

She became aware of another presence, advancing from behind. Despite the lack of malevolence in its aura, something about it felt… off. She couldn't explain how she knew, and she couldn't vocalize what was wrong. She pretended not to notice its approach, and she chattered at the three she faced. "It's so nice to meet a friendly face around here. Everything's just so _different_, ne? It's wonderful to see some other people from Japan! And I'd love to keep talking, but I should really be going; Mama wouldn't approve of me being out this late—"

The odd presence finally arrived at her side, nearly close enough to touch, but remaining enveloped within the shroud of the night's obscurity. "There a problem here?" it gruffly demanded.

"Oh, no!" she fervently denied, prattling. "I was just discussing cultural differences with these three gentlemen here—"

"Feh. Those _gentlemen_ should be on their way." He cut her off with a pointed glare, and the three goons trotted off dutifully, but not without grumbling their displeasure. Kagome realized that her inane babbling had been taken for nervousness. That misunderstanding, coupled with the fact that she had been cut off not once, but _twice_ by this mystery man, fueled her ire. She could take care of herself; no more was she the weak, pathetic girl. She wouldn't be manipulated, not like—

This time, she cut herself off. That train of thought would only bring up the memories. No, it wouldn't do. Kagome could be bull-headed, but here, she, _Himeko_, was not afforded that luxury. Turning back to her original path, she picked up the path back to her apartment. The man settled in to walk beside her, and she glanced up at her apparent savior. "Thank you." She couldn't think of anything else appropriate to say. She didn't need his help, and she wasn't about to pretend that she did.

The dark-haired man didn't seem to notice her ability to fend for herself, but then again, she should be grateful; her opponent's underestimation only enhanced her capability. "What the hell are you thinking, anyway?" he chastised. "This place is fucking dangerous for someone like you at night!"

'_Someone like __me__?'_ she wanted to seethe. Instead, she opted for a noncommittal shrug, exhaling in attempt to relieve her rapidly increasing tension. "I like the quiet," she offered honestly. She didn't have to hide when she was alone. She didn't have to deal with chauvinistic, controlling assholes.

She felt her companion's inquiring eyes on her, as if he understood she had left much unsaid. Suddenly, she too felt the need to satisfy her curiosity. She paused as they entered the illumination of another streetlight. "Here you are, walking me home, and we don't even know each other's names," Kagome laughed lightly as she turned to face him. She reached out – in an effort to embrace Western culture – and offered a handshake. "I'm Hi…"

She faltered as his eyes turned to her face, growing impossibly wide. "K-Kikyo?" he inquired, hopefully.

It was as though she had been sucked into the Arctic Ocean. No, no. This couldn't be happening, no. She couldn't breathe. How could it have followed her here, after all her efforts? She struggled against tears and the onslaught of mental imagery, straining in her attempts to fill her lungs with air.

_The beeping of machinery, steady, reliant – she had always been so reliant, her stone, unfaltering, and then she was gone, gone, gone… and even when she was found, it only broke her more. Her rock had been shattered irreparably. _

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Kagome was aware that she was retreating from those searing violet eyes, which now clouded with confusion, then disappointment. "No… no, you're not her."

_She'd never be her. Not as smart, or wise, or poised, or beautiful, or collected. But that jealousy was misplaced, useless, now that… now that…_

Despite its earlier despondency, his tone picked up its hopeful note once more. "Do you know Kikyo? Do you know what happened to her?"

_Lifeless eyes, not cold, not callous, as they could be; not warm, with the twinkle that sometimes betrayed her impassivity. No, none of that. There was nothing – an abyss of emptiness staring at her blankly._

Kagome choked on the knot that had forced its way into her throat, and fought back impending tears. She had backed out of the lamplight, the security of the shadows. The man didn't seem to notice her internal battle. She hoped. But she had to get out; she had to escape. She had to maintain her façade. She had to evade the encompassing claustrophobia of panic. She had to remain strong. And her voice wouldn't betray her. She hoped.

"Don't you _ever_ mention that name again," she growled acidly. Before her resolve broke, she spun on her heel to march away from him, ignoring the fact that she was heading away from her destination. She just had to get away from _him_.

Her determination didn't last long – thirty steps, perhaps. Then, like a coward – like a fucking _coward_ – she fled, shedding her sandals heedlessly. She clutched her bag to her chest as she forced her bare feet faster, not caring anymore about her mask, about attracting unwanted attention. She had to get away.

She couldn't escape the tears.

But temporarily, distracted by the cobbled path between the buildings, she could forget.

* * *

Inuyasha always knew how to vocalize his sentiments.

"The _fuck!"_ He realized his mouth was hanging agape, and with a clack of his dull teeth, he shut it abruptly.

He stood, dumbstruck, as that… that _woman_ ran away from him. Absentmindedly, he ran his blunt fingernails over his scalp – still earless, he noted – and felt for the lack of fangs with his tongue. What the hell had just happened?

He glanced up at the aphotic sky. Dawn was still hours away, and even those with spiritual power couldn't see him for what he truly was on these nights. What the hell had he done? Or, better yet, what the _fuck _was wrong with that bitch?

He'd been sitting on his windowsill, keeping vigil as he always did on the new moon when he noticed her walking down the street, apparently lost in thought, trailed by men, shady-looking even to his weakened eyesight. He'd tried to remain apathetic; it wasn't any of his fucking business and there was no way in hell he was going to change that. No fucking way.

But he must've pissed someone important off down the line, because they stopped in the alley adjacent to his building. And as much as he didn't want to get into someone's business, he wasn't about to have a front-row view of those three – demons, on top of it, he noticed, recognizing them – taking advantage of that helpless bitch. An old guy being mugged, maybe, if he was bitter, but if some wench was raped while he just sat by… And there was no one else out there. So, begrudgingly, he'd slipped out of his apartment, down the stairwell, and into the streets. By then, others had also exited, and she would have been fine on her own… most likely.

He'd _nearly _turned around to leave when he noticed her defensive stance. '_She was planning on taking them?' _he'd thought incredulously. _'Keh. Like __she__ has a fucking snowball's chance in fucking hell.' _What an idiot.

Inuyasha had hesitated for a moment; would the three goons recognize him, remember his scent, and make the connection? Then he'd scoffed at his indecision, remembering exactly about _whom _he was referring. And he'd been intrigued by the girl. Maybe she was really a threat.

As he'd taken a few silent steps towards her, he _thought_ he'd noticed her cock her head slightly in his direction. Surely a human wouldn't have heard him – was she a youkai? He'd cursed his human inability to sense youki. If she were one, she'd be at least moderately powerful, to take on such a human appearance. But the wench had just chattered on at the goons. And there was no fucking way any self-respecting youkai would babble like a mindless idiot. Inuyasha had scoffed at himself again. His human nights must have made him more paranoid than he'd realized.

Inuyasha studied her as he stalked closer. She gave no indication that she'd noticed him, and he'd smirked in anticipation. When he'd reached her side and spoke up, the goons had jumped – even though they were _facing_ him, fucking morons – but the wench didn't. It was as if she'd known he was there all along. Maybe she _had_ heard him after all?

But no, she was definitely human. He couldn't smell her, and he could hardly see her, save for under the streetlights, but her movements spoke of humanity, lacking the effortless grace typical of more powerful youkai.

But what the fuck _was_ she? His ears might've been dulled that night, but she sure as fuck wasn't discussing any _cultural differences_, and she sure as fuck didn't _really_ think they were "gentlemen" – not unless she typically went around beating up nice guys. Why the fuck would she pretend to be so naïve? As his train of thought continued, he'd felt himself start to lose his temper despite her muttering her gratitude, and before he realized it, he'd snapped.

"What the hell are you thinking, anyway? This place is fucking dangerous for someone like you at night!"

'_Shit,'_ he'd immediately thought. He hadn't meant it like that. And considering how this little wench had been preparing to take out three demons, she definitely had pride and confidence in herself. And she'd already _thanked_ him. She'd definitely explode. He knew what to expect after Sango. He'd flinched in preparation for the imminent eruption.

And it never came.

Instead, she'd given him some fucking evasive answer. Sounded like something that asshole Sesshoumaru would say. It was four words with an entirely different meaning… but what? Who, or _what_, the hell _was_ she, anyway?

She'd turned to him, laughing lightly. Odd, how it sounded so _empty, _unamused. He'd almost thrown another fit just hearing her act so fake, again. Didn't she get that he wasn't buying it?

But then… then she'd had that _face. _And he'd fucking hoped for a second that it _was_ her. He was a moron, a fucking _moron_. He'd fucking thought about _that_ bitch—_again!_ But it wasn't, he'd quickly realized. He didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved, he just _was_. Even so, the brief misunderstanding had fostered his curiosity, and the need to know about _her_ overwhelmed his confusion over the wench standing before him. And he'd asked, before he saw the look on her face. But he'd noticed as the words tumbled heedlessly out of his mouth.

She was _horrified_. Horrified… of him?

Was he really so much of a monster?

She snapped, where she hadn't before. He wasn't even sure what she'd said. What did it matter? It was likely just another lie to mask her disgust.

But why the hell had she pretended to act offended first, before finally fleeing from him? From _him_… The monster.

Inuyasha ran a shaky hand through his dark tresses again, calming himself. He realized, disgusted, that he had just stood, like a moron, oblivious in the middle of the sidewalk for the past few minutes. Who was he kidding? Why should anyone treat him any differently just because he looked and was _normal_, for once? It wasn't as though he didn't expect it from other youkai, and he sure as fuck wouldn't be surprised to get the same thing from humans without his concealments. _She_ had done the same, anyway, the bitch. But what the hell. He probably deserved it, anyway.

He let out a shuddering breath, shaking his head violently to clear his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something out of place on the sidewalk. Stepping closer curiously, he realized – her sandal. A few feet beyond that lied its pair.

Regardless of her opinions of him, he'd gotten himself in it this far. She was somewhere out in the streets still, thanks to him. He _could_ just pretend he was no longer involved… but his conscience protested in the back of his mind. Picking up the discarded footwear, he trudged reluctantly into a promising-looking alley.

* * *

**A/N**: Ah, Inuyasha. He wouldn't be the same if he weren't self-absorbed and insecure. But I feel so _liberated_, speaking through Inuyasha, haha. I don't think I've ever typed the word 'fucking' so many times.

I'd had the beginning of the story, up until the 'witnesses' part written since mid-March, but I debated about introducing Inuyasha at this point, and debated about them meeting for the first time on his 'human' night – it's rather cliché, honestly. But, whatever, it works with the drama. Oh, the drama. :] Then there was what particular point of view to use… For a while, I debated making it in the first person, even though I've never written a story in the first person before. But, I also wanted some elements only possible with a third person POV, so I opted for a more personal third person, whatever its technical term is. It's still rather new for me, so I hope it works.

About the title: since I'm not _exactly_ sure where I'm going plot-wise just yet, I was having difficulty coming up with a title I would deem good enough. Obviously, this story has absolutely nothing to do with high school or college graduation (nor am I planning for one to occur), but I _was_ somewhat inspired – I actually just graduated today! I guess I must've been subconsciously thinking of the impending ceremony when brainstorming ideas for the title, and then I found the like from _Othello_. But anyway, no, there will be no commencement ceremonies here. Instead, I'm aiming for a more symbolic meaning.

Finally, please do _review!_ As I said before, this is my first go at creative writing in years, so I'm not sure how effective I am with the whole emotional aspect in particular. Any constructive criticism is more than welcome, and I plan to respond to reviews as well. :]


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